John Locke - Lethal People

“How’s it hanging, cowboy?” she asked.

“Boring stuff , these Homeland conferences,” I lied.

“Anyone famous there?”

“Besides me? Not really.”

“You’re probably hanging out with one of those pretty high school girls who couldn’t get into the movies.”

“Like, that’s so totally random,” I said.

She laughed. “Don’t work too hard, lover boy. I’m expecting the full treatment when you come home.”

“And you’ll get it,” I said.

“Speaking of which …”

“Can’t say yet. Sometimes these things last a couple days, sometimes more.”

“Until then,” she said, and we hung up.

And so it was time.

CHAPTER 47

There was no getting around the noise. Between the Hummer and the Winnebago, we were screwed if we tried to drive within a mile of the chain link fence.

That’s why I needed the PEPS weapon.

Hugo, Quinn, and I were in the Hummer. The architect and his wife were in the trunk of Quinn’s rental car, and the little people were in the Winnebago. Quinn was a tight squeeze in any car, and tighter than normal in the Hummer.

“Try not to breathe on me,” Hugo said to Quinn.

“Why did you bring a Winnebago?” Quinn asked. “There are only ten of you. I thought you could get at least thirty in one of those little clown cars.”

“We could,” said Hugo, “but where would we fit the net and trampolines?”

“Good point,” Quinn said.

I drove slowly to the highway, the Winnebago close behind me. Then I headed south while the clowns sat tight. I drove past the dirt and gravel road that led to Joe DeMeo’s place, and Quinn caught a glint of something: a belt buckle, gun barrel, or cigarette butt. Whatever it was, there were probably two of them guarding the road.

The highway curved a half mile beyond the DeMeo entrance, and I drove a quarter mile farther, cut my lights, and turned around. I didn’t expect any traffic, since Highway 33 cuts through the national forest and it was well past closing time. Still, I angled the Hummer several yards off the shoulder just to be safe. We eased out of the vehicle. Quinn and I took rifles and camouflage blankets. Hugo stood behind the Hummer to keep an eye out for any oncoming cars or cagey DeMeo soldiers.

Quinn and I moved soundlessly up the road to the area where the curve began. There, we set our rifles down, put on our night vision goggles, and dropped to our bellies. We slid the next few yards quietly and waited.

We spotted the dots of light at the same time.

Cigarettes.

We reversed course, picked up our rifles, and checked to make sure the silencers were tight. These were state-of-the-art CIA silencers, which meant we could shoot the guards and make less noise than a mouse peeing in a cotton ball.

We separated. Quinn began moving silently through the forest, circling behind the men guarding the road, while I made my way slowly through the high ground, opposite DeMeo’s entrance. If everything went according to plan, we’d catch them in a crossfire. But these things never go according to plan, and I didn’t want to take a chance on one of us snapping a twig or rousing an otter or making some other sound that might alert the guards.

When I was in position, I covered my head and shoulders completely with the blanket and texted the signal to Quinn and Hugo and the circus clowns. Then we went dark with the phones but set them to twitch. I placed mine in my shirt pocket.

My night vision goggles made it easy to keep an eye on the guards while they smoked, but I was too far away to trust a shot.

It took two minutes for the Winnebago circus wagon to arrive. As the lights washed over the highway, the guards stubbed out their cigarettes. The Winnebago made a clanking noise and stopped about fifty yards from the entrance. After a moment, two little people climbed out with flashlights and lifted the hood as if to check for trouble. I had hoped at this point that the guards would approach the Winnebago so I could shoot them in the back, but they were well trained. They stayed put.

My plan didn’t require them to approach the little people. The whole circus wagon ruse was designed to create enough noise so Quinn and I could get closer. As the clowns took turns trying to fire up the engine and hollering directions to each other, I inched my way closer and knew Quinn was doing the same. Finally, the hood slammed shut and the clowns climbed back in the wagon and started revving up the engine with gusto. I probably covered twenty yards undetected during that sequence. Then the clowns turned their radio up full volume and started singing circus songs as they rode steadily down the highway, past the entrance, through the curve, and out of sight.

While they did that, I covered another fifty yards, maybe more. Now I was close enough to attempt a kill shot. I lined up my rifle and waited for the cigarettes to light.

And waited.

Two minutes passed. I had expected at least one of the guards to walk out onto the road to make sure the clowns hadn’t stopped, but neither of them moved or made a sound or relit their cigarettes. These were some incredibly well-trained guards, I thought.

Then my cell phone twitched.

I slowly slid my camouflage blanket back over my head, eased my cell phone out of my pocket, and brought it up to my face under the blanket. Making absolutely certain no light would be emitted from the keypad, I held my breath and opened the phone. I didn’t dare speak, not even a whisper.

“You can come out now,” Quinn said. “I killed both of them.”

I let out my breath. “Did you check to see if there were any others?”

“You didn’t just ask me that,” Quinn said.

“Right. What the hell was I thinking?”

We made our way back to the Hummer and congratulated the clowns on their performance.

“And then there were eighteen,” Hugo said.

“So far as we know,” I said.

I started the Hummer’s engine but kept the headlights off . The Winnebago turned around and got behind us and followed us back up the road to the entrance, where we headed down the dirt and gravel road toward Joe DeMeo’s place.

CHAPTER 48

There was only one entrance leading to Joe’s house, and you had to pass through the chain link fence to get there. Charlie Whiteside and I had calibrated the distance to the first fence pretty carefully, so I stopped when I got three-quarters of a mile from it. Any closer and I would probably give away my position.

Quinn had both the guards’ walkie-talkies, and so far we’d been lucky. No one had asked for an update. I figured we were due, since most security firms go with a fifteen-minute crew check and we’d used all of that and more.

We all slid out of the Hummer and listened for barking dogs. Hearing none, Quinn took his rifle and headed east of the compound. Hugo took mine and headed west.

I climbed on top of the Hummer and gave my gunners time to get as close as they could before the dogs picked them up. I’d hoped they’d get at least halfway there, but the dogs were very alert and the barking started almost immediately. I fired up the PEPS weapon and signaled the circus wagon to make tracks.

Suddenly, the walkie-talkies crackled and came alive with the sound of frantic voices. We’d caught them off -guard, so score one for us, but we were still a long way from winning.

The circus wagon veered off the road to give me clearance for a shot. I took it and heard screaming and yelping. I set my cell phone to speaker and turned up the volume. Then I jumped back in the Hummer, flipped on the headlights, and started the engine. The clowns kept their headlights off and continued making their way to their position, left of the hole in the fence I’d just created.